For A While
Consider
Consider
Consider her breathing. In and out in and out and then a skip – she's laughing or crying or touching my nose with her finger tip. Consider how she dances. In the house with the music up loud or on the train whenever there's no one in our car, curly short hair covering her face and her crooked smile. Consider her laughter. Soft and hot against my neck or loud and unforgiving in a quiet room. Emily is.
Emily is Emily. Is here, in love, delirious, broken, impossible. Consider, consider, consider, consider. Do I know this woman? With this special place on my abdomen for her to rest her head after a long day; with all those records on the shelf and the dust that falls when she sings; the flat with the walls that shake with her laughter, her breathing, her dancing. If I let myself smell her hair I would find it smells like damp coconuts and home. But, Emily, who are you?
Consider how I couldn't live without you. Consider why you allow me to feast on you, a parasite with the drive only to devour its host, taking everything and leaving nothing. Emily, please, why do you come home and give me a pad and a pen and tell me to write down all of the things that keep me up at night? Emily, consider how I shrink away from your touch when you reach for my hand and know that I understand how this makes you fall apart. Lately, you've been smiling so much and I've been reading in bed and tell me, tell me why. Emily, who are you?
Consider. Alice, cheekbones sunken with regret and fear, eyes hollow with years she hasn't seen yet. Consider. How her breath was so ragged that night and how it stopped only when she fell and cracked her skull. Consider the fact that there was so much laughter before but it was giddy and her laughter, her laughter skipped where it shouldn't while her nose bled on stage under the harsh fluorescents. And then consider how she didn't dance but only jumped around me and kissed my lips hard enough to leave a bruise. Synthetic happiness would run her life, run her into the ground. Until she did. That night. The blood that seeped from the notch in her head and stained her skin, eyes dead white, shaking with all of that processed shit flowing through her bloodstream. Alice, we all know you. The girl with the bruises up and down her legs, the marks along your arms like train-tracks, the mouth all pale that never smiles, and translucent skin always covered with a sheen of sweat. We know you. Consider how I love her.
But think. I have to think.
Consider her breathing. In and out in and out and then a skip – she's laughing or crying or touching my nose with her finger tip. Consider how she dances. In the house with the music up loud or on the train whenever there's no one in our car, curly short hair covering her face and her crooked smile. Consider her laughter. Soft and hot against my neck or loud and unforgiving in a quiet room. Emily is.
Emily is Emily. Is here, in love, delirious, broken, impossible. Consider, consider, consider, consider. Do I know this woman? With this special place on my abdomen for her to rest her head after a long day; with all those records on the shelf and the dust that falls when she sings; the flat with the walls that shake with her laughter, her breathing, her dancing. If I let myself smell her hair I would find it smells like damp coconuts and home. But, Emily, who are you?
Consider how I couldn't live without you. Consider why you allow me to feast on you, a parasite with the drive only to devour its host, taking everything and leaving nothing. Emily, please, why do you come home and give me a pad and a pen and tell me to write down all of the things that keep me up at night? Emily, consider how I shrink away from your touch when you reach for my hand and know that I understand how this makes you fall apart. Lately, you've been smiling so much and I've been reading in bed and tell me, tell me why. Emily, who are you?
Consider. Alice, cheekbones sunken with regret and fear, eyes hollow with years she hasn't seen yet. Consider. How her breath was so ragged that night and how it stopped only when she fell and cracked her skull. Consider the fact that there was so much laughter before but it was giddy and her laughter, her laughter skipped where it shouldn't while her nose bled on stage under the harsh fluorescents. And then consider how she didn't dance but only jumped around me and kissed my lips hard enough to leave a bruise. Synthetic happiness would run her life, run her into the ground. Until she did. That night. The blood that seeped from the notch in her head and stained her skin, eyes dead white, shaking with all of that processed shit flowing through her bloodstream. Alice, we all know you. The girl with the bruises up and down her legs, the marks along your arms like train-tracks, the mouth all pale that never smiles, and translucent skin always covered with a sheen of sweat. We know you. Consider how I love her.
But think. I have to think.
♠ ♠ ♠
It's been a long time since I've posted anything on Mibba or done anything with this story. I've decided to go back and massively edit what I have so far, only after I finish the story. I've got some new ideas for it and such. If you read anything that doesn't make sense or contradicts something else, please let me know. :)Thank you,
Briana